


Madara and Hashirama

by Canislupusarctos



Category: Naruto
Genre: Akimichi clan, And This Is My First Time, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Awkward Teenage Hashirama and Madara, Butsuma's A+ Parenting, Canon Compliant, Chinoike Clan(mentioned), Depression, Does Not End Well, Especially Madara, F/F, F/M, Founders Era (Naruto), Founding of Konoha, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Hyuuga Clan, I don't know how to tag properly, I wrote this because I'm still salty they made Boruto instead of a founders era or Akatsuki prequel, If you watched most of Naruto you know what I mean, Internalized Homophobia, Inuzuka Clan, It's Way Harder Than I Thought, M/M, Madara and Hashirama's brothers are innocent, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Nara clan - Freeform, Regret, Sarutobi Clan - Freeform, Senju Clan - Freeform, Senju Clan-centric, Shimura Clan - Freeform, Tajima and Butsuma are not great parents, Tajima's A+ Parenting, Tobirama is a bit of an asshole to the Uchiha though, Trauma, Uchiha Clan - Freeform, Uchiha Clan-centric, Uzumaki Clan, Very Bad Decisions, Warring States Period (Naruto), Will Add Tags and Characters Later, Yamanaka Clan - Freeform, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-07-16 14:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16088051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canislupusarctos/pseuds/Canislupusarctos
Summary: This is a founders era Naruto prequel because I decided I needed one and we didn't get a canon one.  It will also be very long, one of my biggest projects, and is only part of a fan work project that will include fan art and some animation.  Because that's how much I wanted a prequel about the founders.





	1. Genesis

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've worked up the courage to post anything since I started writing(though it was original work only initially) nine years ago, so feel free to give me constructive criticism but please don't be outrightly mean. Also sorry if this is bad, I haven't done any editing or even proofreading yet, and I don't have a beta reader. Additionally, I may update slowly because I am working on several original novels, a number of fanfictions I can't count, and a few very large fanfiction + fan art projects such as this one, and I have no confidence, so it takes me a while to work up the courage to share any of my work.

For a very long time in the history of the world, an endless war had been raging.  This war became known as the Warring States Era, more than just a war, but a time period itself. The shinobi embroiled in the war all thought peace could come only from exterminating their enemies, but at heart, none of them truly believed it would ever end, fighting for a cause no living person could remember.  Amidst this war, two clans, by far the strongest of them all, stood at the center. They were the Uchiha, possessed of those legendary eyes, the Sharingan, the Mangekyou, and the Eternal Mangekyou, with the potential to awaken the greatest of them all: the Rinnegan, and a fearsome, terrifying fire nature that burned so hot nothing could stand in its path.  And they were the Senju, with a chakra suffused with healing energy so strong it increased their vitality and longevity, with a wind nature equally as strong as the Uchiha’s fire, tearing through any opposition, and the potential to unlock a fearsome battle avatar in the same form as the Kyuubi.  The two were meant to fit together, the Senju’s wind fanning the Uchiha’s flames, the Uchiha’s Susano’o meant to wrap themselves around the Senju’s radiant battle constructs, bolstering and protecting them.  But the two had been split apart from the beginning by a terrible creature, the embodied will of a monstrous god, once hailed as the Rabbit Goddess, Kaguya, of the Ōtsutsuki clan. Her embodied will had soured the relationship between the founders of the clans before they had ever produced a single heir, splitting yin and yang into two pieces, throwing the world into chaos, as light and dark fought instead of working together.

 

Amongst all this war, two children were born, one to the Uchiha, and one to the Senju, who would defy clan boundaries and shake the world.

 

The older of the two was called Hashirama Senju, and he was born on the 23rd day of October, a seemingly unimportant day, though his birth would make it an important day.  When he was born, it was as joyful as a day could be for the constantly warring Senju clan. No battles were fought that day, and in a rare lull, there were no injured shinobi in need of medical care.  And, most importantly, the Uchiha clan had been dealt a serious blow in the last battle they’d fought. The young clan head Tajima’s parents had both been killed, and his heavily pregnant but still fighting, and still very dangerous, wife, Rei, had been severely wounded, almost killed.  That, surely, meant that her unborn child, who would have been heir to the clan, would certainly die, and that she likely would follow. All in all, the time of Hashirama’s birth was a prosperous time for the Senju, with their mortal enemies likely thrown into disorder, heir and matriarch almost certainly dead or dying, a healthy heir for their own clan born, and plenty of resources readily available.  Everyone expected Hashirama to grow into a powerful shinobi fit to be the heir of the Senju clan, and they were right.

 

The younger of the two was called Madara Uchiha, and he was born on the 24th day of December, another seemingly unimportant day, which again, his birth would make important. He was also the child and heir the Senju clan had believed and hoped had been killed when his mother Rei had been injured. When he was born, it was a nightmarish day, even for a warlike, solitary clan always at war such as the Uchiha.  Their base of operations had been mercilessly attacked by the remnants of the Chinoike clan, a very large Hyuuga clan raiding party, and half the Uzumaki clan. Now, it wouldn’t have been a problem for a clan as strong as the Uchiha to fend them off or kill them if they weren’t already in dire straits.  This was, of course, the reason the weaker clans chose then to attack. Before the attack on their base of operations, the Uchiha clan had been in a highly unfavourable battle against their mortal enemies, the Senju. They had taken a crippling number of deaths and even more severe injuries. Additionally, Madara’s mother, who had been five months pregnant with him at the time, had been nearly killed by Butsuma Senju because she was not at her usual level due to her pregnancy.  She was not the only one who nearly died that day. Madara’s grandparents had been killed during that battle, and over half the clan sustained potentially fatal injuries, with less than a quarter left in fighting shape. It was a rare loss for the Uchiha clan, and one that certainly would not have occurred had Naori and Hikaku Uchiha not been out on a top secret mission. They were only sixteen, but already, they were among the clan’s strongest. All of this had far-reaching consequences, particularly given the Uchiha clan’s lack of medics, due to their nature as a battle-breed clan.  All in all, the time Madara was born was a dark time for Uchiha, with their clan thrown into chaos, heir and matriarch’s lives in danger, a healthy heir for their mortal enemies born, their base of operations attacked, so many of their clan dead or seriously wounded, and going through a famine. Even when Madara was born, two months early, the few medics the Uchiha clan did have told Tajima and Rei that Rei would likely die within a matter of days, and that Madara probably wouldn’t survive the night, and that, if he did, his chances of surviving a month were still less than five percent, and even then, if he did live long enough to grow up, that he would likely be a sickly, weak child, unfit to be the heir.  Of course, the medics were wrong, as Madara grew up to be the strongest Uchiha in history.


	2. A Parent's Disapproval

“Madara!  Why are you still incapable of executing the Great Fireball Jutsu?  You’re already five, and you should be ready for the battlefield next year!  Or were the medics correct when they told me you would grow up to be a sickly, weak child?  It would have been better if you did die if this is how you’re going to be!” Madara winced at his father’s painful words.

 

It wasn’t as though this weren’t par for the course, though.  Madara would have been surprised if his father approved of  _ anything  _ he did.  Madara heard the sound of another child laughing in the background.   _ Setsuna, that bastard,  _ he thought angrily.  The grating voice eventually managed to form words.  Unfortunately, as Madara had been hoping Setsuna would choke on his own laughter.  “Aaand once again, the failure child of the Clan Head once again fails to produce more than a candle flame.  Guess we all just have to hope that your baby brothers are worthy heirs!”

 

Another child added, “You know how they say children born in battle are the strongest, right?”

 

Setsuna immediately latched onto this train of thought.  “Yeah! But look at what the stresses of battle on an unborn child did to worthless Madara!  Because his mother almost died in battle before he was born, he was born early, so he’s weak and useless!”

 

A door slammed open.  Naori stormed in, followed closely by Hikaku, her best friend.  All the children gasped in awe, “It’s Naori!”

 

Naori Uchiha had invented a very dangerous and powerful jutsu when she was only fifteen.  One of her eyes was permanently milky and blind because of this jutsu, called the Izanami, created to counteract the Izanagi.  Not only that, but she’d quickly become one of the most powerful shinobi in the known world. The other clans feared her, and no one dared to question her nine times out of ten.  It was said that she’d once fought Butsuma Senju into such a corner he had to call for help. Her loud, deep voice rang out across the room, “Children. If you don’t quit bullying others, you’ll become nothing but entitled, weak brats who die in their first battle, thinking they’re superior to everyone else.  So why don’t you focus on your own training and accept that not everyone gains power at the same time. For all you know, Madara could become stronger than all of you one day.”

 

Hikaku nodded, leaning on the doorframe, content to let Naori do the talking.  However, Tajima, being the Clan Head, was one of the few who would question Naori.  “But how are weaker children to learn if their weakness is accepted? Besides, what are the chances Madara will become strong, particularly if he can’t survive his first battle?”

 

Naori huffed.  “Why bother sending children who are so likely to die onto the battlefield?  Better to wait until their talents bloom, then see what they can do. Our methods evidently aren’t working if so many children die in vain during their first battle.  You should also have faith in your own son.”

 

Tajima huffed right back at Naori.  “Class dismissed. Everyone practice their Katon before we have class again.”

 

As he left, Tajima dragged Madara along with him.  He had to pass Naori and Hikaku on his way out, so the two of them shot Madara a look behind Tajima’s back that said he could go to them if he needed to.  When they were out of everyone’s earshot, Tajima threw Madara down on the ground. “Why will you never learn? If you faced a Senju your age right now, any Senju, you would die!  Understand? So if you want to be a useful member of this clan, you need to sort out your issues with jutsu!”

 

Madara had mastered the art of properly addressing and acknowledging his father.  He said in a monotone, “Yes, otou-sama.”

 

That was the first time Tajima hit Madara.  His hand would leave a bruise on Madara’s shoulder.  “Let this be your lesson.”

 

Then Tajima walked away, leaving Madara to go home while his father went somewhere Madara wasn’t sure of.  Madara walked into his family’s house somewhat reluctantly. His mother wasn’t any better than his father when it came to attitude, or anything else really.  It didn’t matter that she had a five year old(Madara), a two year old(Izuna), a one year old(Kazuma), and was pregnant with twins. She was as fierce as the day she made the truly terrible decision to fight  _ Butsuma Senju  _ while five months pregnant.  The moment Madara set foot in that house, he was given away by two year old Izuna, who squealed, “Madara nii-chan!”

 

Madara winced, despite the fact that his mother Rei would have noticed him very quickly anyways.   _ Izuna, you traitor,  _ Madara thought to himself,  _ why did you have to go and do this  _ now  _ of all times?   _ Rei stalked over.  “Why are you back so soon?  Did your father end class early because of your incompetence  _ again _ ?”

 

Madara hung his head in shame.  Every Uchiha could do the Great Fireball Jutsu by age five, so why couldn’t he?  “Yes, okaa-sama.”

 

Rei activated her Mangekyou, staring menacingly into Madara’s still-powerless eyes.  “Go train.  _ Now. _ ”

 

“Yes.”

 

Just then, Izuna shakily stumbled over.  “Nii-chan!”

 

Madara couldn’t help but pay attention to his little brother.  He crouched down to Izuna’s level, encouraging him. “You’re doing great!  One day, you’ll probably be stronger than otou-sama!”

 

When Izuna tried to walk a little too quickly, he fell, and Madara helped him back up again.  Rei’s disapproving voice came from across the room. “Madara, don’t be so soft. You shouldn’t praise even young children for something so simple.  And if you help him up when he falls, he’ll never learn. Go train, and stop playing with Izuna.”

 

Izuna scowled, the look rather comical on his round face in conjunction with the typical childish manner of speaking young children possessed.  “No. Play with Izuna, nii-chan!”

 

Rei didn’t spare the brothers a glance.  “Izuna, keep an eye on Kazuma. You don’t have time to play.  You’ll start training when you turn three, and keeping watch is good practice.  Madara doesn’t have time to waste playing if he wants to get stronger.”

 

Luckily, that seemed to mollify Izuna.  “I’ll play guard duty then! Kazu isn’t gonna get away on my watch!”

 

Those were bold words for someone who promptly face planted two seconds later in his haste to find the baby.  Madara had to laugh at his silly otouto. But even this was apparently unacceptable. “Madara, stop procrastinating!”

 

Scowling, Madara made his way outside without protest.  He walked into the forest to find a clearing where he could practice katon jutsu and not risk setting a fire he couldn’t put out, though the likelihood that he was capable of setting a fire was rather low.  Once there, he continued to attempt a katon jutsu. As usual, every attempt failed to produce more than a small flame barely big enough to light a proper campfire.  _ Though,  _ Madara thought,  _ it might be enough to stand a chance against other young children from weak clans. _

 

Madara practiced in that clearing until long after the sun had gone down.  He knew his parents wouldn’t be angry if he was home late, or even not until morning.  In fact, they’d likely be angered if he were to go home with his pitiful amount of progress.  With this thought in mind, Madara continued to weave the hand signs with increasing accuracy, speed, and chakra control on each try.  That is, until he began to tire. At some undefinable point, Madara’s chakra level reached a point at which most shinobi would call it a day.  His eyesight began to blur, objects seeming to suddenly clone themselves, once, twice, three times. The world seemed to tilt, spin, lurch under his feet.  Despite this, Madara continued to weave hand signs, though his motions were now slower, his hands shaking with exhaustion, struggling to form the seals. Eventually, the world began to go dark, tilted, and Madara slammed into the ground on his side.  As his eyesight went completely dark, and consciousness faded, Madara thought,  _ I failed.  I’ve barely made any progress, and I’m already done? _

 

—————

 

Hashirama loved sparring and learning new jutsu.  What he didn’t yet understand were the implications of what he would be using the training to do.  It wasn’t like he didn’t know that he would be killing people, Uchiha mostly, but he hadn’t grasped what  _ death  _ or  _ killing  _ were yet, beyond the theoretical.  There was also one thing he didn’t like about sparring, and didn’t understand.  Hashirama didn’t want to hurt members of his own clan while training, and it made no sense to him why spars should ever go that far.  These thoughts flew through his head again as he knocked down a slightly older child, six years old to his five. He had disobeyed again, using just the right amount of force in his taijutsu move to stun the girl so he could keep her trapped with his foot to win the match.  And, as usual, his father’s exasperated voice came right on cue. “Hashirama, how many times must I tell you to stop going easy on your sparring partners? The Uchiha won’t go easy on you even if you go easy on them. They’ll torture you to death with their Sharingan if you don’t go all out.”

 

Hashirama stepped off of his sparring partner, letting her up, as his father’s scolding was also an indication that the match was over.  “But, chichi-ue, there’s no point in hurting your sparring partner, of course I would never go easy on the~”.

 

Butsuma interrupted, “Hashirama, if you go easy on your sparring partner, they’ll never learn, never get stronger, and neither will you.  Therefore, going easy could get both of you killed by the Uchiha.”

 

The girl Hashirama had beaten in the spar, Touka, stood up, agreeing with Butsuma, “Hashirama, it does none of us any good if you go easy on me or anyone else.  Just avoid a fatal or permanently crippling blow, and we’ll all be fine.”

 

From somewhere else in the room, Hashirama could hear exasperating three year old Tobirama’s voice as well.  He was only three, but he was already so unnerving sometimes, and also really full of it on occasion. “Nii-chan, they’re right.  How would you feel if you found out that cousin Touka died because your sparring matches didn’t help her improve enough?”

 

Tobirama had a point, but Hashirama could beat a three year old’s argument easily.  “But what if I hurt someone in a sparring match and that caused them to die on the battlefield?”

 

Of course, Tobirama, being three, couldn’t find a proper counter argument.  So he shut his mouth. The rest of the room, however, seemed to be in agreement with Butsuma, Touka, and Tobirama.  Hashirama looked around. He didn’t find a single approving face. In a fit of emotion, he left, hurt, and didn’t stop until he was deep in the woods.  Forests had always been a source of joy for him. For some reason, they were like his anchor in a sea of chaos, when Tobirama wasn’t enough to keep him from being swept away by it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I got the level of language for little kids wrong. I was basing it off my own experience at that age, so I could have easily remembered incorrectly. Also, I was going to make up a title for Naori, like Hashirama is called the "God of Shinobi", and Minato the "Yellow Flash of Konoha", but I didn't like any of my ideas, so if you have an idea, just put it in the comments. I also can't remember if Madara or Tobirama have one, and I know Izuna doesn't, so if you know or have an idea, feel free to put that in the comments too.


	3. Forgotten First Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long! I was working on another large Naruto project, and the piece I completed is also somewhat relevant to this story. I now have a [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/canislupusarctos100) art blog and a [Deviantart](https://www.deviantart.com/canislupusarctos100) account.

It was getting dark, and when it got dark, it could be dangerous. Mostly because that’s when the Uchiha clan would ambush other shinobi. But Hashirama didn’t care. He refused to go back to the compound, despite the fact that he was dangerously close to Uchiha clan territory, in the neutral territory between Senju and Uchiha lands, in fact. Instead, Hashirama made a decision that would, in the end, shape the course of the world. He walked deeper still into the woods, until he eventually stepped into a clearing by a river.

Immediately, he knew something was wrong. His chakra seemed agitated, but he couldn’t quite tell why. Looking around for a few seconds, Hashirama quickly identified the cause. There was a small body in the river. Smaller than Hashirama’s by a significant margin. He didn’t waste any time in attempting to drag the unconscious person out of the water. However, it was rather difficult, with said person being out of Hashirama’s reach, and all of Hashirama’s attempts at using chakra to stand on the water’s surface ending in a failure the moment there was a major fluctuation in chakra needed to stay on the water(which was when Hashirama started to pull the other person out of the water).

Finally, when Hashirama’s frustration reached its peak, something happened. Small saplings burst out of the ground near him, coiling around the other child and depositing them on the shore. Blinking in shock, Hashirama looked at his hands, then at the saplings. They hadn’t disappeared. Then, shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the child, who seemed to be about his own age, though definitely on the small, scrawny side. A runt, as Butsuma was prone to saying. They also had bluish-black spiky hair, somewhat pale skin, and fine features.

Poking the other child on the shoulder, Hashirama asked, rather overenthusiastically and unironically, “Hey! Are you alive?!”

When he got no response, he scowled and wondered if the trees would listen to him. Willing them to prod the other child, Hashirama almost jumped when they obeyed. “Woah! Awesome!”

The trees prodded the other five year old hard enough that they coughed up water, woke up, pulled out a kunai, and stood up...only to promptly collapse again. Hashirama didn’t even stop to think about the fact that the chances the five year old was an Uchiha were nearly one hundred percent. Instead, he practically yelled, “So you’re a shinobi too?! Cool!”

When he only received an groan in response, Hashirama became concerned. “Are you okay?”

The other child shifted slightly. “If you’re going to kill me, you might as well get it over with. I’m low on chakra right now anyway.”

Hashirama’s brain screeched to a halt. “What? Why would I do that? I saved you from drowning in the river. You were out cold.”

The other child snorted. “You’re a shinobi, like me. Why wouldn’t you?”

Hurt, Hashirama replied indignantly, “But I’m not like that. I don’t kill people just because they’re shinobi from a different clan.”

“If you knew which clan, you probably would.”

Still, Hashirama, being five and too trusting, didn’t get it. “Bet I wouldn’t. But we don’t have to know each other’s clan names. I’m Hashirama Se~” Hashirama cut himself off before he could say he was a Senju.

“Oops,” he laughed, “guess I almost said mine. Now what’s your name?”

“Madara.”

“That’s a cool name!” Hashirama exclaimed, beaming.

“Bet you don’t share half your name with anyone, do you? Two of my brothers also have names that end in “rama”, and the other one has a name ending with “ama”. They’re all so similar.”

At this, it seemed, even this strange “Madara”, had to hold back a laugh. A noise that sounded a bit like a strangled giggle reached Hashirama’s ears despite Madara’s self-control. “Ha! You laughed! That means I’m funny!”

Madara’s face was expressionless once more. “Did not. You’re not that funny.”

Right on cue, Hashirama entered one of his fake depressive episodes. The “fake” part of this was lost on Madara, however. Hashirama whispered, “I’m not? Guess I’ll die.”

Jumping up, and almost collapsing again, Madara placed a hand on Hashirama’s shoulder. “Wait, no. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. Don’t be sad.”

Hashirama turned around slowly, then replied mischievously, “And that’s your weakness, assuming that’s what’s going on.”

Before Madara could react, Hashirama had tackled him to the ground using chakra to enhance his strength. Madara protested, “Hey, no fair! I‘m low on chakra right now!”

Laughing evilly, Hashirama teased, “Now just imagine how people who aren’t shinobi feel. They can never use chakra.”

“But I’m an...nevermind. I’m really behind the rest of the shinobi my age in my clan.” Madara sighed, pushing Hashirama off of himself and sitting up.

Sensing the darkening of the mood, Hashirama tried to reverse it. “Don’t be like that! Maybe you’re a late bloomer, and will be better than all of them someday!”

“Maybe,” Madara said doubtfully, not really believing it, “anyway, where do you stand among your clan?”

“Me? I can beat the older kids! But everyone always tells me to stop going easy. I don’t get it. I don’t want to hurt my own comrades. But everyone else always says that if I hold back, we’ll all get killed by the-the other clans. Haha, almost slipped up there again!”

“...”

“What?”

“Why are there plants growing around where you’re sitting?”

Hashirama gasped. “There are?!”

Madara was completely deadpan. “Yes, there are. That’s what I just said.”

“For real?”

“...Look, I know you’re not stupid, but you’re really asking that? Why would I lie?”

Casting a glance around himself, Hashirama could see that there were indeed tiny saplings sprouting from the grass. Realizing that this was the same power he’d awakened just in time to pull Madara out of the river and prod him awake, he exclaimed, “Oh! So that’s what you meant! Yeah, that’s just my Mokuton.”

Hashirama had just called it that, obviously because it seemed to grow trees. Madara wasn’t willing to let it drop, apparently. “You seemed quite surprised by it. Are you sure you didn’t just name it on the spot because you got that ability today?”

“You got me. It seems to be a combination between Suiton and Doton, which would make sense, considering it grows trees. Which would make it a Kekkei Genkai. I just got it while I was trying and failing to pull you out of the river. My chakra control isn’t yet good enough to pull someone out of the water while standing on it, apparently. Also you were too far away from the shore for me to pull you out from there. So then, all of a sudden, a bunch of trees grew out of nowhere, curled around you, and put you on the ground over here. Amazing, isn’t it?! Then I used them to wake you up.”

Frowning, Hashirama continued, “Anyway, how did you end up in the river? Unconscious at that.”

Looking down at the ground, nervously plucking a blade of grass, Madara muttered, “I don’t remember ending up in the river. The last thing I remembered before waking up was passing out and hitting the ground.”

“Huh. But why are you low on chakra, and why did you pass out?”

Lowering his head and avoiding Hashirama’s eyes, Madara whispered, “I lied. I’m not just low on chakra. I’m almost completely out of it. I couldn’t even have a taijutsu match with a three year old right now. So, I passed out from chakra exhaustion.”

“But you didn’t answer my first question. Why are you low on chakra, or rather, almost out of it? And why would you ever push yourself that far?”

“I...I’m not good enough. And my parents would rather I don’t come back than come back with too little improvement. So I went out to train, as usual, and I trained for a very long time, trying to do a Katon jutsu. But I still can’t do one properly. My flames are pitiful. Though I tried until I was almost out of chakra, at some point I could barely form hand signs, then I got dizzy, lightheaded, the world began to spin, my body got weak, and I fell on the ground. Then I passed out from chakra exhaustion. Oh! That’s right, I was training on a hill near the river. Maybe I rolled down it and fell into the river.”

“You should never do that! It’s dangerous! What if I wasn’t here today? You could have drowned!”

“Well, if I can’t be good enough, it’s not like anyone’s going to care.”

“Since you’re not a bad person, I would! What kind of jerks care only about strength when judging a person, not as a fighter, but as a person? Also can you show me your Katon? I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is!”

This earned Hashirama a hard stare. “I don’t have enough chakra. I couldn’t make so much as a spark right now.”

“Hmm...I can give you some!”

“...If you really want to see the worst Katon ever.”

Hashirama rolled his eyes, putting his hand on Madara shoulder to transfer chakra. When he finished, he stood up and stepped back. “Do it! Do it! See how big of flame you can make!”

Madara sighed, standing up. “Here goes nothing.”

He quickly formed the necessary hand signs, and Hashirama narrowed his eyes. Madara didn’t seem to be forming enough seals for any Katon jutsu Hashirama knew. Maybe that was the problem? What he didn’t know, however, was that Madara was using a shortcut the Uchiha Clan had developed. Taking a deep breath in as preparation to breathe out a magnificent fire, Madara said the name of the jutsu, being sure to aim it into the empty air, “Katon: Goukakyuu no Jutsu!”

What came out was unlike anything either boy expected. Madara had expected a pathetic little puff of flame better for nothing more than momentarily blinding a single opponent. Hashirama had expected a medium to large fireball that was capable of taking out other shinobi. But when Madara exhaled, a positively gigantic fireball roared out, causing the river to sizzle, steam to form, grass to be burned away, and the air to heat up. When the jutsu was finished, the grass was still on fire, steam drifted to cover the entire area, and both boys stood in shocked silence. Hashirama poked Madara. “Hey, that wasn’t small or pathetic. What clan do you come from? The Uchiha or something?”

Flinching, Madara responded as evenly as possible, “No family names, remember? And that is not what usually happens. Normally it’s so small it would have a hard time lighting a campfire.”

“Uhhh…how are we going to put it out?”

“You do Suiton, right? It has to be one of your affinities if it’s part of your Kekkei Genkai.”

“Well...problem is...my Mokuton might take a while to get under control...and wood and fire...well, that wouldn’t end well.”

“If this burns down the entire forest, it’s your fault, Hashirama.”

Gasping, Hashirama shot back, “But you’re the one who did the jutsu!”

“Hn. You told me to, and I think it’s your chakra that made it so big. Plus, you can use Suiton from a distance.”

“But...but...look at my Mokuton! It’s also long range! You put it out!”

“Katon are the first elemental jutsu my clan’s shinobi learn, and I only know the others in theory, though.”

“Come on! You don’t want me to make it worse, do you?”

Madara sighed. “Fine.”

Weaving the hand signs for a basic Suiton, Madara managed to put out the residual fires(which, luckily, weren’t as bad as they could have been). He was still rather surprised by this sudden ability to do proper jutsu. He wondered if it had something to do with Hashirama’s chakra, which seemed to be much more similar to nature energy than any shinobi’s chakra that Madara had ever felt. Little did he know, he was correct, partially because his chakra and Hashirama’s were two halves of a whole, always seeking one another throughout generations.

Hearing the sound of a stone hitting the water, Madara turned to face Hashirama. “What was that?”

Hashirama laughed. “I’m skipping stones, silly. You just throw the stone at the water right, and it skips!”

“That’s not very specific.”

“Want me to teach you?”

Madara shrugged. “I guess.”

After half an hour, Madara still wasn’t very good at stone skipping. To be fair, Hashirama couldn’t make it all the way across yet either. A wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over Hashirama. “I’m tired. I think I’ll just sleep here.”

Madara blinked. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll get attacked?”

“Nah, not really. We are quite young. Besides, since my Mokuton seems to be unconscious, it’ll probably protect me. Will you stay here?”

“I guess. No one’s really expecting me back anyway. Well, maybe my little brothers are, but they’ll forget about it when I go back tomorrow.”

—————

A trickle of sunlight made it past the trees by the riverbank, and it was all it took to wake Madara. He was a light sleeper due to a clan habit. It was hardly morning, but Madara wouldn’t be the only member of the Uchiha clan up at that hour. He knew that, back at his family’s home, his parents and Kazuma would awaken around the same time, though Izuna would be longer. He caught hell for it despite his young age.

For a moment, Madara was confused by his surroundings. He didn’t know why he was on the grass by a river. Turning his head, he caught sight of another child of the same age, sleeping deeply. What?! Why is there a strange child next to me?! Scrambling to his feet, Madara’s mind raced to comprehend what he was seeing. He knew he was nearly impossible to sneak up on. Then he remembered what had happened the previous night. It made a lot more sense in context. However, Madara’s momentary confusion was not without consequence. He’d woken a very tired Hashirama who, it turned out, needed a lot more sleep than Madara did.

Hashirama sat up, rubbing his eyes, “What happened? Tobirama, settle down. …Wait. Where am I?”

Madara sat down in front of Hashirama, whose eyes widened. “Oh! I remember now. How long has it been?”

Smiling, then quickly forcing his face into a neutral expression again, Madara answered, “It’s early. It might as well still be night. I’m just an early riser.”

“Oh. I’m tired.”

“Then maybe you should sleep more. It’s not like you’re going to get attacked, since I’m not going back to sleep.”

Hashirama simply flopped back onto the ground and fell asleep once more almost immediately. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep. Not a soul would ever guess he was a shinobi just by looking. While he slept, Madara observed the peaceful natural world around them that, as a shinobi, he rarely got a chance to appreciate. Though, he couldn’t totally relax, having to keep his senses attuned in case of any possible threats. It was not hard to pinpoint the moment when Hashirama woke up. The aforementioned boy’s chakra spiked wildly. “Hey, hey, Madara!”

Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, Hashirama slammed his hand into Madara’s shoulder. Spinning around, Madara protested, “Hey!”

Running off, Hashirama called, “Catch me if you can!”

Taking off after him, Madara yelled, “Oh, now you’re going to get it, Hashirama!”

The two of them continued playing their game of tag until eventually both of them fell into the river, when Hashirama fell off a tree branch and pulled Madara down with him. The two had returned to the shore, soaking wet and panting from the exertion. It was Hashirama who spoke first. “We should probably return to our clans. My clan will come looking for me soon if I don’t go back.”

“We probably should. See you here again sometime?”

“Yeah, I’ll come here as often as I can!”

“I’ll see you around, then.”

As both Madara and Hashirama left the river, Madara thought maybe he’d made a friend. He wondered if what he felt around Hashirama was what friendship felt like. He also really did believe he would see Hashirama there in the near future. Alas, it was not to happen. The two would not see each other even once for another seven years. And when they did see one another once more, Hashirama would have all but forgotten, remembering only that there was a dark-haired boy he’d met by the river once, the reason he always went there. Madara would remember their first meeting, but he would never mention it to Hashirama. He would pretend he didn’t recognize the kind-hearted Senju boy from seven years before.


End file.
